The Pillars Are Watching
by GhostLegion
Summary: An inquisitor and his interrogator observe a ritual on a remote planet. This short is a stand alone and is intended as background for a DIY Codex.


There are times when even the most diligent of the Emperor's agents must take a risk. Not that anyone takes risks in the service of the Emperor, risks are usually frowned on, even if they turn out to be for the best. In this case however, the risk I took was to send my interrogator ahead of me, and on his own. Its not that I do not trust Markus, I am not yet sure that the Inquisition is the place for him. I am actually thinking of asking my old friend to take him on as his Interrogator.  
  
It is not that Markus is incapable, far from it. Actually he has served my interests and the Inquisition quite well over the past two decades. Overall, I believe he is about ready to take the tests and move into the Orders of his own right. I truly think he will make an excellent inquisitor, perhaps not of my line of thinking, but perfectly capable nevertheless. I'm rambling again, yes, I know it.  
  
Markus commandeered a destroyer from the imperial fleet and set out to follow up on a rumor my network picked up. The ship was dated, but remarkably fast and its crew is fanatically loyal. I'm sure the Mechanicus would question the speed were they to find out. As ordered, Markus left message pods in his wake in order to reduce the amount of message traffic regarding this endeavor, I'm certain my Lords will understand this.  
  
The rumor mentioned a world far from the trade routes and nearly beyond the psychic light of the Emperor. Apparently, a rogue trader discovered the world, feudal in nature, and even though it was extremely remote, the Imperial Cult flourished, without evidence of a missionary or any contact with the Ministrorum or Ecclesiarchy. Scans of the planet from orbit revealed several stronghold structures, mainly around the equator. Though there was extensive evidence of mining, nothing was located in the northern reaches or in the mountains.  
  
When I arrived Markus and I met with one of the local lords, who informed me of an interesting tradition that had taken place every five years for many many generations. Apparently the youths and strongest of the knights (a loosely applied term to be sure) would face the Trials every fifth year until their 25th year. These trials tended to be of strength and skill of arms, ending with a 80 kilometer foot race into the northern mountains to a place described as "the Vault of Heaven." Even more interesting was that the challenges had just ended and the fifteen youths left were to commence the race that night. We were invited to await them at the "Gates of Heaven." Needless to say, we took the offer.  
  
The clouds hung low in the predawn light, barely revealing the foot of the mountain and the fifty warriors gathered at the breach in the cliffs known as Ghenzah Voual, the Gates of Heaven. All of them were waiting for the younglings who had left the challenge grounds only a few weeks before on their long race. The gathered warriors knew from past experience that today would be the day. The youths would appear just as the mists gathered to further shroud the treacherous path into the cliffs and eventually to Kte'aeal ghyVoual, the Gates of Heaven.  
  
Near the cliffs themselves stood the off world pair. Idly studying the reliefs and pictograms inscribed along the edge of the narrow pass they were murmuring to themselves in their strange language. Some of the others looked to them and complained about guests using a tongue that was barely understood by most of the gathered throng. The few lore masters hovered close to the strangers, hanging on their every word and naming them kin to the sky lords. The lords who the omens cried would appear this day to claim the victors from the race. The clouds were rapidly thickening and the first wisps of fog were creeping through the gap in the cliffs as a shift and muttering began at the edge of the throng.  
  
With a cry of warning, the scouts rushed back into the group, their long flowing strides carrying them quickly to the clan masters and lore masters. The off worlders turned from the cliffs to look on in apparent confusion as the scouts chattered something in the local tongue. Then the scouts pointed to the south where a group of runners could barely be seen and things started to make more sense.  
  
"The challengers come for the test!" the chief lore master cried out as the runners came fully into view. The runners began slowing almost a kilometer from the cliffs to await the greeting and direction of the chieftains. The lore master moved closer to the outsiders and murmured softly so only the inquisitor and his attendant could hear. "Of the 50 that left the hold to the south, only 15 come to the last test, the others will have fallen behind or passed into the halls of their fathers. So few...there will be fewer still."  
  
By now, the youths had drawn themselves up to a line, nostrils flaring as they breathed hard and heavy though their faces showed nothing of the strain they had gone through. Each was silently awaiting the pronouncement of the lore master and the high chieftain. The crowd of onlookers moved to flank them, narrowing as the lines neared the cliffs and none moving closer than twenty meters to it, while a watchful, expectant air settled over them in the silence.  
  
With a clap of his hands that echoed off the rock like a burst of thunder through the silence, a lore master stood and gazed at the challengers. Slowly the chieftains walked the line, studying each youth as their spokesman stood before them. "Each of you has faced the trials," his voice boomed over them as though a voxcaster was in use, "each of you has proven his worth. Know now that we are gathered here to congratulate you!"  
  
With a roar, the gathered warriors sounded their approval, shouting praises to the competitors at their feat. The off worlders turned to look at them, astounded at the sudden sound, the young one's hand resting on his bolt pistol as though expecting problems. As suddenly as it began, the sound was gone, the raised hand of the lore master silencing all as he looked over them.  
  
His aged voice sounded like brittle leather as he spoke to the new champions, "Each has come far, each will leave proud of his accomplishments and become battle leaders among his people..." he trailed off expectantly. The largest youth caught the mood in an instant and glared at the scholar.  
  
"You speak as if we have faced nothing...as if there are more challenges to prove our worth. Have we not faced the Teeth? Have we not weathered the Fires? Did not all of us stand the Test of Claws? What more is there to prove our worth? What can you," he paused, sizing up the lean wizened form of the lore master before spitefully continuing. "What can a master of paper, do to challenge a master of arms?" At this he smiled to himself and his companions voiced their agreement at the challenge.  
  
One of the chieftains glared at the youth, his rage evident as he spoke, venom dripping from his words, "Silence fledgling! What know you of hardship? Do not dismiss the lore masters so easily, they are able in ways beyond your ken!"  
  
"Peace, Gheld. These youths only know the adulation of victory, they know noting of what awaits." Turning slowly, the lore master eyed the youths. "Who will face now my challenge? Who has the strength to fight beyond what you have faced? Who will pass through Ghenzah Voual? Who will stand trial at Kte'aeal ghyVoual?"  
  
At the cry of the first name, the mountain shivered and groaned. As the second was spoken, the mists thickened and raced over the cliffs like a tide. Now the inquisitor and his youngling drew back in worry and in shock at the development. A roaring rose from the mists and the inquisitors were apprehensive. The youngling shouted in alarm and dove away as the mist and fog boiled from the gap, the entrance suddenly invisible though it was a mere foot away from him. The senior inquisitor loosened his cloak as though reaching for something while his eyes locked to where the gap was.  
  
Several of the chieftains moved to calm the off worlders, telling them that this was the way of things. That the clouds and fog gathered this way every turn of the seasons and the winds pushed them outward. This was part of the reason for the challenge to be here instead of in the hold to the south. The elder of the pair eyed the terrain and nodded apprehensively and stepped back from the cliffs.  
  
The gathered youths looked into the fog as one stepped forward, readying themselves for this new task. Their spokesman cried out again, "Though not told of this, lore master, we will face the challenge. I will enter Kte'aeal ghyVoual, and I will prove my worth!" His words echoed eerily from the ground, rolling through the fog and he stood ready to face the test, to charge headlong into the fogs and hopefully not dash himself on the rocks. Thus the test required and so he would prove his worth, whether or not his peers followed.  
  
At his cry, a section of the fog darkened into the shape of a man taller than any of the group appeared. Shrouded in the fogs as though wearing them for a cloak, his piercing red eyes shone through as the only way to truly note his presence. At the figures appearance, the young off worlder jumped to his feet and drew his strange weapon, shouting in the tongue of the E'pyrrals of a demon and firing into the mists. The aged one stood and also drew his weapon as the giant turned to look at them, red eyes unblinking as the whisper of his voice washed over all of those gathered.  
  
"You come not from this place. You do not know what happens here." It paused and turned to face the youths, "These have come to prove their worth. Know that I will take the strong. Know that I will cull the weak. The proud, and the fool will be left naked before His judgment. You are agents of His will. Know that this test is as all things, wrought of His will and by His word." The eyes drifted over the group before turning back to the youths and the voice spoke in their language. "As you are tested, so was I tested. As you have risen, so did I rise. As your elders challenged you, so was I challenged. As you accepted their challenge, I challenge you to take mine. Let him who is worthy charge, let him who is strong strike. Let him who is brave face my challenge! I am your challenge and wait within the vault. Face me if you dare!" With that the form faded from view, and the youths stared after it in wonder.  
  
"Markus," the lore master spoke softly, "we invited you and your master to see our ritual. It is a rare invitation, even among our people, yet we honor you as visitors from above. The warrior," he paused for breath. "The warrior honored you with his words and you fell back in awe. We too stand in awe of our lords, who appear with mist and fog. Who speak not, but only watch and protect from the daemon. Why did you use your weapon? It cannot harm him or his kind?" Behind them, ten of the fifteen youths charged into the fog, yelling their battle cries and words of challenge as they disappeared into the swirling mists.  
  
"Inquisitor," Markus looked up in wonder at his master. "I hit it, I know I hit it and still no reaction, not even a step. And that...voice..." He trailed off into his own thoughts, staring into the mists for a moment before speaking again, quoting the obscured figure, "...agents of His will...did it mean?"  
  
"Yes, Markus, it recognized us. Well, your weapon in any case. Who can say if it could see us or knew the symbols on your bolt pistol? As it didn't attack, nor did it flinch at your shots, I can only guess at what it was. The references to 'His word' and 'His will...' The respectful tone, the reverence, and the size, can only lead me to conclude one thing." Turning to the gathered chiefs and lore masters, he spoke again, "Sirs, how often did you say you hold this ceremony?"  
  
Eyeing him curiously, the lead chieftain spoke softly. "Once every generation this challenge takes sons from us. This is a test from our fathers' and their fathers' and their fathers' fathers' back as far as the sagas tell. Those who take the challenge become warriors, those who pass the challenge become leaders. Those who survive the final challenge are never seen again. Come Felkik, what troubles you? We will go to Kte'aeal ghyVoual once the mists have cleared. That is the sign the challenge is over. Then you will walk among the pillars and see the signs and the mysteries. Then you will help us burry the dead. It is the way."  
  
Hours later, I took Markus with me into the pass following the lead of our host. The cliffs were carved with images and stories of the fallen and of the clans that roamed the surface of the planet. In several areas Markus cried out as some of the depictions looked remarkably like ork and eldar fighting the humans of the planet. There were giants in armor among them, armor unlike anything on the planet. We came to the same conclusion and spoke it quietly, Marines. Marines, it explained what we saw in the mists, the challenge every generation, and it fit in with the stories told by the lore masters. This was a challenge initiated by the Adeptus Astartes, a test to see who was worthy. It was no wonder we were recognized.  
  
After an hour's walk the pass opened into a valley littered with carved pillars and stone columns each as wide as a Rhino, their tops vanishing into the low hanging clouds. We realized why these locals knew of the Imperium when we saw the eagles at the base of each column. It is possible that the tops had the same, though I never saw them. Around each was a pile of skulls and bone littered the areas between them. There were also blast marks, as though something huge had burned in the center of the valley. Around it were scattered what we could only call shell casings. Bolters had been fired there, many bolters.  
  
In the center of the clearing, we found three bodies around an Imperial altar. Each body was tattooed and marked with the symbols of the Imperium, the Inquisition, and of a stylized skull that could only be a Marine badge. The tattoos were fresh, likely done after the young ones had died. The elders gathered up the bodies and silently moved them to the walls of the valley where they were seated with weapons, their hands folded into a crude aquilla. Once the rites of death were spoken we filed silently from the vale. As we left Markus and I turned at a sound, looking back into the Pillars of Heaven to see a lone robed figure standing in the center, its red eyes watching from the shadows of its hood. Two more appeared to either side of us, giants hovering over our heads with robes that barely covered their forms and the mark of the Inquisition worked among the eagles at the edges of their robes.  
  
The entire party of locals stopped and bowed to one knee, waiting the word of these figures in silent wonder. After several moments, one of the giants spoke in a rasping voice, "Go well Inquisitor, His will be done." With that, the three marines disappeared among the columns.  
  
As one the locals rose and bowed to the vale, intoning softly, "The challenge is over, the worthy taken to the mists, the watchers remain. The judges stand ready...the pillars are watching..." 


End file.
